Aloha from Hell. Richard Kadrey
like that. It was one book in particular that got him into trouble, but he won’t talk about it. However, none of that has anything to do with the fact he’s an experienced and extremely successful exorcist.”
“So what went wrong with the kid?”
She sits down on one of the bar stools. Shakes her head and drops her hands to the bar.
“Your guess is as good as mine. The exorcism seemed to be going well, and Hunter—Hunter Sentenza, the possessed boy—was doing well. His color was coming back. The voices had stopped. There wasn’t a trace of fire.”
“Fire?”
“We didn’t actually see it, but there was a symbol burned into the ceiling over his bed. There weren’t any matches or lighters in his room. We think it was done by the demon possessing the boy. His hands and face were blistered.”
“What’s the symbol look like?”
“Old. I didn’t recognize it. Father Traven can tell you more about it.”
“What happened next?”
“It felt like we were reaching the end. Traven was sure that he had the demon under control and almost had it out. Before that, Hunter had been speaking in tongues. But then he seemed all right. He was calm and breathing normally. All of a sudden he grabbed Father Traven and tossed him across the room. Hunter levitated a few feet over the bed and shouted, ‘I won’t be locked in.’ After that, things got weird.”
“After that?”
“Hunter fell back onto the bed and didn’t move. I didn’t know if he was passed out or dead. As I helped Father Traven to his feet, the kid started singing.”
“‘Puff the Magic Dragon’?”
She shakes her head, a knowing little smile curling the edges of her lips.
“It was an old Chordettes song. It went, ‘Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream, make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen.’”
I can’t help but laugh.
“That’s what this is. You think the demon knows me.”
“Any idea who it might be?”
“I haven’t had much experience with them.” I try to think. Run over all my kills. There are so many. They run together like a dark stinking river.
“I might have killed a demon every now and then, but it’s not like they have distinct personalities. They’re like bugs. Who remembers stepping on a bug?”
“Maybe the song was a fluke, but I doubt it. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”
I look her in the eye, take a drag on the Malediction, and blow it out.
“I’m going to Max Overdrive and find an Andrews Sisters musical. Then I’m going to the hotel, put it on, and drink steadily for the rest of the day.”
I stand up to leave, but Vidocq grabs my arm. He might look old, but he’s been using his muscles for over a century. His grip is like a claw lifter at a wrecking yard.
“Give me the folder,” he tells Julia.
Sola pulls a beige manila envelope from a shoulder bag she’d left on the bar.
Vidocq pushes me over to the bar and pulls something out of the folder. It’s a picture of a teenage boy in a school robe. Maybe a high school graduation shot. He’s smiling at the camera. Straight white teeth and messy brown hair under the graduation cap. He looks like the kind of kid who’d be captain of the track team. I hate him. Healthy, happy, popular jock. My natural enemy in school. On the other hand, he’s not someone I’d pick to square-dance with demons.
Vidocq says, “This is the boy we’ve been discussing. His name is Hunter. He’s nineteen. The same age you were when you were dragged to Hell. Tell me, Jimmy, did that experience improve your life? I don’t think so. Are you going to walk away and let what happened to you happen to this boy?”
There’s acid in the back of my throat. A whirlpool of anger and fear in my head as the nineteen-year-old kid I keep buried under the floorboards in my head, way deeper in the dark than the angel, struggles up to where I can’t help but look at him. Total Nam flashback time and I’m feeling things I didn’t know I could still feel. The dry, brittle arms gliding out from under the floor in Mason’s house, wrapping around me and dragging me Downtown. Sensations of falling. Crashing onto a blood- and shit-stained backstreet in Pandemonium. Trying to clear my head and focus as a thousand new smells, sounds, and the perpetually twilight sky hit me. Then the slow realization of where I was and the gleeful looks on the Hellions’ faces.
I toss the photo back onto the bar.
Lying there in that Hellion street, I had a strange sensation, like some primal and essential thing inside me had cracked and everything I ever was or ever might have been—my name, my hopes, Alice, my whole ridiculous life—was turning black and falling apart like rotten fruit. When it was done there was nothing left inside me but the numb hopelessness of a corpse. Not much to build a new life on but it was all I had when I realized the Hellions weren’t going to murder me right away. Maybe that’s why killing is so easy for me and why I’ve been hiding with a dead man in one room over a store since I crawled back here. There’s not enough of me left to do anything else.
I drop the rest of my cigarette into Sola’s coffee cup.
“I don’t like being manipulated. You fucked this thing up. You fix it.”
I get up and walk out.
I CROSS TO the other side of the street, where it’s darker and I can keep the sun out of my eyes. Candy just about catches up with me halfway down the block.
“Wait up, will you,” she says.
I keep walking.
She catches up and walks beside me.
“I sent Vidocq to the clinic and told him to take Allegra to breakfast. Want to have breakfast with me?”
“This is why Vidocq bought you, isn’t it. I’m the asshole who walks out and you’re the angel who’s supposed to bring me back in.”
“Of course. Is it working?”
“Not that I’ve noticed.”
She gets in front of me at the corner.
“Come on. Just have breakfast with me. We don’t have to talk about any of this.”
“No thanks.”
“Why do you have to make everything so hard? Let’s do something. Just us. We kissed that night at Avila and the timing has been so fucked between us trying to get to know each other ever since. But we’re here now and I don’t have to save Doc and you don’t have to save the world. Can we just try to be like normal people for an hour?”
“I thought not being normal people was why we got along. Monster solidarity.”
She puts a hand on my chest.
“Then we can pretend. A couple of wolves eating blueberry waffles among the sheep.”
“Keep your waffles. I need grease to kill this hangover. Lots of bacon or ham. Maybe a chicken-fried steak.”
“Anything you want.”
I take a step back from her.
“Let’s get one thing straight. You never play games like this or lie to me again. About anything.”
She nods.
“I promise.”
“Okay.”
She loops her arm in mine and pulls me down the street.
“Roscoe’s on Gower, then. They have fried chicken and waffles.”
Candy